It's Complicated
by PixelJaye
Summary: [Post Season 1.] Entrapta applies her impressive scientific prowess towards figuring out her current social situation. It goes exactly as well as she suspected it would.


_There's always a reason._

It used to be so easy.

Wait, no, scratch that. It actually... used to be _very_ hard. Hard enough that it hurt just to think about it.

But then, Princess Entrapta learned the rules to making it easy. Learn the rules of the world. Apply those rules. Apply knowledge. Experimentation. Science. Logic.

 _Technology._

Technology devised to provide specific, solitary functions. Devise enough of that technology, and you ended up with a kingdom full of robots that understood everything that Entrapta asked of them, because Entrapta had programmed their functions, their subroutines, their directives, and upgraded them over time.

Technology made it, mercifully, easier.

And then, out of the blue, it got hard again. _People_ showed up again.

(Oddly enough, the people showed up on the same day those machines proved to be ultimately fallible. Even now, Entrapta wondered whether or not that had truly been a coincidence.)

But knowing that her machines were fallible in the face of First Ones tech (and come on, seriously, it was _First Ones Tech!_ Entrapa would have given _actual limbs_ to bask in its presence for more than a few minutes—fortunately she wouldn't have to) didn't matter so much—at least for a while.

Because _people were back._ That was interesting all on its own, if nothing else.

Okay, no, it was also something else. Having people around was... weird.

Weird, that was, whenever Entrapta decided to pay attention to them. Whenever she decided to do anything besides quietly, remotely, study them.

Studying them was always more fun.

* * *

 _There's always a "reason."_

When Entrapta agreed to join Princess Glimmer's alliance, Glimmer, Adora, Bow (note for later: put a pin in that one) and everyone else she met kept trying to say that it was great that Entrapta had "friends" now.

Which was just short of laughable, really. She'd always had friends. Technology was her friend. The machines she built, and rebuilt, had always been her friends, in all shapes, sizes and even colors, depending on rust settlement and alloy classification. In some cases, they'd been _family,_ which even Entrapta knew was different from being friends, but there was still an unspoken closeness to be had.

Having _people_ as "friends," however, was... well, it was different things at different times.

Entrapta's robots did everything she asked them to, without question—and as long as she continued to create them, and program their mission statements, she wanted for nothing, including companionship... after a fashion. Still, she could drown in luxury and tiny morsels until the planet exploded.

And if (or when? Seriously, her research into Runestones brought up a _lot_ of possibilities) Etheria exploded? There would be _so_ much incredible knowledge to be had behind its demise that any of the possible downsides Entrapta had made a thorough list of didn't seem all _that_ bad. She'd find a way to get off-world _somehow_ , and study the precious, precious wreckage.

But again, then the people had showed up. The Princesses. She-Ra (a _living being_ powered entirely by First Ones tech! Second pin). Even those two really nice Horde gir—okay, _one and a half_ nice Horde girls. It was never bad being around any of them—but also, never as big a deal as literally everyone else made it out to be.

It was just... another status.

Now with robot friends. Now with people friends. Now with spinny hair friends. Now with tiny food friends for mere seconds before they lost their corporeality in the name of providing her with nourishment.

Each had their own set of pros and cons. Scorpia talked—a lot. Catra kept asking her to talk less, and to dumb anything she said down to a grade-schooler's level. Glimmer was energetic. Adora was honorable. Bow could actually speak her language. Mermista was amusing in her constant annoyed state. Perfuma was funny in her constant delusion that the world was something to "flow" with as opposed to utterly manipulate. Frosta was the tiniest thing Entrapta knew, yet was somehow also _not_ food, and on a couple levels that secretly saddened Entrapta a whole lot.

Like any good friend, they (sans Catra, unless it was about weapons) were always ready to listen if they (sans Bow, unless she got _really deep_ into her science talk) couldn't understand her words or ideas.

But again, it was just a status. Her robots back home listened. Her tape recorder listened. _Emily_ listened.

Emily was listening to her right now. Emily, the large mobile spherical killer Horde robot she'd upgraded and reprogrammed all by herself, was walking behind her as she walked back to her lab, looking out for any possible threats, like any good friend would.

Emily always wanted to know what was on Entrapta's mind.

But she couldn't talk back.

Of course, Entrapta was used to it. The machines could always listen, but never reciprocate sentiments. And Entrapta had to admit, there were times when she wanted feedback to bounce off of hers. It was one of the reasons the machines being infected by the First Ones tech fascinated her more than they did anyone else: they'd tried to truly communicate! And they'd made friends with each other! Sure, they did it evilly and with intent to kill their creator, but one step at a time!

The bigger, better question was: what algorithms had been powering them? They'd done nothing that Entrapta had expected that day!

Her machines _never_ did anything she didn't expect.

Just like the people who called themselves her friends. Who... _had_ called themselves her friends. They did unexpected things, too.

And those unexpected things... didn't always line up with what Entrapta wanted.

Or was prepared for.

* * *

 _There's always the_ same _"reason."_

Even Entrapta, for all of her life's isolation, knew that people rally together sometimes. Especially friends. Definitely a thing friends do. It was nice to team up for a common cause, especially when it was one Entrapta agreed with.

Not long ago, Entrapta had rallied with several of her new people friends, including the other Princesses, the living piece of First Ones tech, and the one other person in Etheria who understood what a thaumaturgical sensor was. And Glimmer, who was nice too.

It was nice to rally, and be friends, if only because, every once in a while, people working in groups afforded random knowledge that couldn't be acquired from mere individuals, or transistors, or ruins.

But rallies came and went, and there was always a limit to that potential knowledge. And then, inevitably, those people would act in their own interests, which in Entrapta's experience usually didn't intersect with hers.

And then she'd end up somewhere else. In a new status. With other people. Or with machines.

Or with the crushing solitude of her own synapses and hair and nothing else.

Which was... which was okay, Entrapta always told herself. She'd done this dance before. Too many times. Too many times for her to care anymore.

She had an urge to turn around, and stare into Emily's optic units. She indulged it.

Emily beeped with curiosity as she stared back at her surrogate mother.

They stayed like that, quiet, in the hallway, for far longer than Entrapta planned.

 _There's always a "reason" you can understand._

* * *

The Fright Zone had _lots_ of technology.

Lots of places where knowledge, reason and logic were applicable. Where that applicability was all around Entrapta, wrapping itself around her, comforting and safe. Reassuring her of her usefulness. Of her place in Etheria. Not of what that place was, but that it existed at all, even in the face of being a Runestone-less Princess.

The reassurance was nice sometimes.

She hadn't meant to find all of this tech, or fall in love with being able to have free run of it, but here it was anyway, her accidental sanctuary. A far cry from literally anywhere else in the world save for her castle back in Dryl.

And, oh! She was coming up on another one of those sanctuaries right now.

Entrapta's face lit upon reaching her lab. A single red light blinked brightly, on the side of one of her giant monitors. She registered it, processed it, then squealed. Cackling, she leapt into her work chair, spun over to the monitors, and took her entire system out of idle mode.

Five days ago, she'd pondered how easy would it be for her to have complete run of the Fright Zone, given how much technology intertwined it. One hundred and ten hours later, she'd been able to siphon 90 percent of said Fright Zone's non-Black Garnet processing power for her personal projects.

Including one that was a little more personal than usual.

Multiple robots walked, hovered and scuttled around Entrapta's laboratory, taking care of maintenance and cleaning—again, just like home. They were programmed to keep her safe, keep her efficient, and keep her filled with miniscule nourishment—portions so small that the Horde's Force mess hall hadn't noticed them being casually stolen yet, and likely never would.

They were programmed in such a way that Entrapta knew.

She knew they would have come back for her.

Entrapta pressed a button on the keyboard. Multiple miniature picture feeds lit up, on all of her screens. She used her prehensile ponytails to reach for large headphones resting on a side hook which protruded from the central processing tower, and clamped them over her ears.

She scanned at every moving picture intently as she took out her recorder, and pressed its activation button.

"Fright Zone Log, Day Nine, Hour 18. All Battle of Bright Moon footage from all Horde cameras present at the time has finally been logged and compiled. Now processing on loop."

 _Even when you know the reason... there's always hope._

* * *

Hours later, Entrapta finally took her eyes off her console, and slouched in her seat, with a weary and forlorn look on her face.

"Fright Zone Log, Day Nine, Hour 23. It's..."

She took a deep breath, blinking several times before continuing.

"It's official. No mention of me from anyone present, for the duration of the conflict. Not even from the one who professed himself to be one of my fans, and who I could talk actual tech with. Based on this data, it's safe to conclude that Catra's words ring true. For all intents and purposes, I..." Entrapta's gaze lowered. "No longer exist. At least, in the Rebellion's eyes."

She'd disappeared from public view before. But this time felt... different. This time felt... burning. In her chest. In her eyes. Images flashed, some true, some not. Memories, fantasies, joyful times, and what could have been, had she only been... smarter. Faster. Better in a fight. Easier to understand.

Worthier of their concern.

Entrapta got up from her chair in a daze, and walked towards Emily. Emily noticed, chirped, walked towards her, and allowed Entrapta to wrap her arms and her hair around her. Emily's lukewarm metal armor, only barely heated by active transistors, felt soothing as ever.

It _almost_ helped.

"I suppose I can't blame them. Not from a logical standpoint, anyway."

* * *

No, seriously, the Fright Zone had almost _too much_ technology.

Well, for anyone else, anyway. Entrapta gazed out the small, metallic window of her new lab, marveling at the robots, discarded diodes, and flashing lights which greeted her.

She could leave any time she wanted. All she would have to do was make it across the vast landscape in front of her. The vast landscape containing acres of waiting knowledge, stretching as far as her eyes could see. Acres of her element, acres of play time and learning and comfort, with her current room serving as its nexus.

She could leave any time she wanted—yet the more she tried to look beyond the Fright Zone, the more she struggled with motivation.

It was time to pull the pins.

Entrapta did so. She mentally ran every possible social scenario, assigning perfectly logical actions and reactions to the people who had left her behind.

She did all of these things at once—then staggered, as if she'd been shot. She gasped for breath, struggling to _not_ think of what the princesses, what Bow, what the Living Tech Girl, would think of her, upon finding out that the deal with the Runestones a few days ago was all her doing. Everything else could be handwaved, but that one might have been a bridge too far.

She'd taken that gamble before thinking. Knowledge versus people. Knowledge versus friends. She'd always chosen the same thing in the end. Yet she never had second thoughts about those choices... until today.

Entrapta desperately, vainly struggled not to think of everyone blaming her for the battle they'd nearly lost. Everyone staring down at her, saying how freakishly awful she was. How she really didn't care about people at all. She'd already heard enough of that in whispered tones over the course of her life, when it _didn't_ make perfect sense for them to do so.

She wasn't prepared for them to be completely justified. The burning in her heart, and in her eyes, returned.

Now she remembered what it was like. She did what she did back then: pushed everything down, replaced it with stone.

And, this time, she resolved to not lift the stone again.

* * *

Knowledge was the ultimate power. In a power struggle such as the one the Horde was locked in with the rest of the world, Entrapta was far more armed than anyone else.

Not that she planned to "fight".

There was too much to learn.

Entrapta used her ponytails to assist changing into her pajamas, as as she made her final recording of the night.

"Edit to log: it was a fun experiment while it lasted. But new developments have shown that my previous understanding of the concept of 'companionship' was correct from the start."

She looked towards her bed—large, soft, spacious, and with a breathing glass dome covering the top of it, just like her bed at home. She walked to it. It looked _very_ inviting right now.

"Moreover, I have confirmed: merely thinking of this concept, much less interacting with it, even after this many years... still hurts. Now shelving experiment until further notice."

Entrapta crawled into bed, curling up as the dome closed over her.

 _There's always a reason you can understand... with enough time alone._

She wiped the tears from her eyes, before closing them and chasing the mercy of calm, joyful slumber—where the world would finally make sense.


End file.
